


Discipline

by realelvenking



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24131173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realelvenking/pseuds/realelvenking
Summary: Meludir is caught looking at the King in ways a guard should not
Relationships: Meludir (Hobbit Movies)/Thranduil (Tolkien)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	Discipline

It’s time for the monthly inspection, the guard lined up perfectly for the King. 

Meludir is nervous. If he could sweat, he’d be wet through by now — this is his first inspection as part of the guard, not long past his majority and now a fully fledged member of the King’s Royal Army. 

The young archer is standing straight, still, looking ahead and ensuring the end of bow is resting perfectly on the ground. 

His Majesty is... terrifying, frankly. Even for an elf, King Thranduil manages to know everything about the army and see any potential faults without even looking at them, it seems. The Elvenking sweeps regally down the line, crown atop his head, not even a hair out of place. 

Meludir feels like he’s trembling - is he? His Captain isn’t looking at him, so perhaps not. The King walks past and Meludir can’t help but follow his Majesty’s steps, his golden robes trailing behind him. 

Thranduil stops, turning his head away from Meludir to Captain Tauriel, who is walking beside him. He whispers something inaudible, but Tauriel’s eyes meet with Meludir’s - her face unimpressed. Oh no, he’s in trouble... 

Once the King was gone, she marched over to Meludir’s Captain, who shot him a look and nodded. 

Tauriel approached Meludir, her face serious. 

“You presence is required in front of His Highness, follow me.” She immediately turned and walked briskly away, the young elf practically running to catch up. He didn’t dare ask - he knew he was in trouble, he felt it deep within him. Guards didn’t get called to the King for nothing... only the most serious of infractions. 

Finally, they arrived at the great throne room, Meludir too frightened to raise his eyes to the King, let alone address him. 

Thranduil motioned to his guards “Leave us, I doubt this one is capable of assassinating me.” 

Tauriel cast a doubtful eye over Meludir and left with the guards. 

Thranduil’s voice cut through the silence. “Tell me, why is it during inspection you could not stop looking at me, and now you are here, the floor has become far more interesting?” 

Oh no. “M...my King...” Meludir squeaked. How could he save this situation? 

“That’s right, I am your King, and yet you cannot even be bothered to look up?” 

Meludir’s eyes slowly moved from the floor to Thranduil, who was sat looking down his nose at Meludir, who instantly dropped to his knee.   
“I am sorry, your Highness, truly.” 

“Hmm. I am sure you are, what is your name?” 

“Meludir, your Highness.” His voice trembled 

“And you are new, aren’t you? Have you even passed your majority?” Thranduil’s voice was low, almost dismissive - yet there was... something, maybe the tiniest inflection of interest. 

“Y-Yes, your Highness. Twenty years past.” Meludir couldn’t look up, he just couldn’t. 

“Barely then... although I feel that is no excuse to be looking at your King in such a way.” 

Meludir swallowed. “Your Highness...?” 

“I am not stupid, please do not treat me as such... a young elf like you, thinking it appropriate to look at your King in such a way... lust in your eyes.” 

The young elf almost choked. “No.. nnno... your Highness...” Thranduil was beautiful, but stationed far beyond even the thoughts of this wood elf. 

“Why...? Do you not think your King is attractive?” Thranduil’s voice was less insulted and more playful, as if he were toying with the young elf. 

“Uh... no your Majesty, I mean yes...” oh this was unbearable, Meldudir prayed the King would utter his punishment and end this. 

“I thought as much. You may approach, Meludir.” 

The young elf was confused, but rose to his feet and moved closer to the throne. 

“No, use the steps. Come closer.” The King’s voice hovered just above a whisper. 

Meludir alighted the steps, cautiously making his way towards the great throne, carved out of the forest’s wood. 

Thranduil watched him through half-lidded eyes, his face almost like a statue. 

“Hold out your hand, Meludir.”   
The young elf looks up, surprised and then recovers himself, staring back down at the floor. Hand outstretched as if he was begging for a gold piece.

Thranduil’s hand reaches inside his own magnificent robe and draws something out, placing it in Meludir’s diminutive hand. 

With some confusion, Meludir’s fingers tighten around the object, an intricate key - attached to a plush tassel. Confused, the elf just stares at it. 

“If you decide to come, change out of that awful guard uniform.” Thranduil clicks his fingers. “Now go.” 

Still non-plussed, Meludir hurriedly shuffles away into the grand corridor beyond the throne room. What was this? Some sort of strange punishment? A puzzle? His thoughts buzz around like angry bees and then, it clicks. He’s seen this red tassel before. Hanging outside the King’s private chambers. Did he...? Had he just...? Everyone knew he retired at 10pm. With a sharp intake of breath, Meludir practically ran to the barracks to wash and change. 

***

In the end, the key is more symbolic than functional, Meludir shows them the key and the guards let him pass without a word. Once he steps inside Thranduil’s inner sanctum, he’s surprised to find that the King is not there. 

For a moment, he looks around the room in awe, carved out of living rock and furnished with such perfect accents and fabrics. The whole room is intimidating, luxurious and precious, like Thranduil himself. 

“Well done for keeping to time.” The King appears as if from nowhere, in less formal robes but no less dressed up. 

Meludir would reply with something clever if only he could think of it, instead he just nods. 

“That... is an interesting choice of attire.” Thranduil looked almost amused, cold blue eyes flickering over the Silvan’s form. 

“My-my Lord?” Meludir thought he had done well, wearing his formal blue robes. 

Suddenly, Thranduil is so close that Meludir can feel the heat of his body. “A little... heavy.” He moves away again to a small stand where he pours a glass of wine, holding one out to Meludir not as an offer, but rather more an insistence. The smaller elf just holds it. 

“Meludir. Do you know why you are here?” Thranduil takes a large mouthful of his own wine, those amused eyes still on the guard. 

“Ah... not... not really your Majesty.” Should he be on bended knee? This is all so confusing. 

Thranduil stepped closer again, still elegantly holding his glass of wine. “Meludir, why would a King call one of his loyal subjects to his private chambers?” 

Meludir, in spite of his innocent looks, had suspected, but was afraid to speak out of turn. “Uh... My Lord? To punish me?” 

Thranduil gave a low laugh, as if what Meludir had said was an amusing dinner anecdote. “I do not wish to punish you... unless of course that is what you desire.” His fingers swept Meludir’s dark hair over his shoulder. The Silvan shuddered with pleasure. Thranduil smelt like wine and something dark, aromatic. Something divine. 

“Do you wish to leave?” Thranduil’s hand hovered above Meludir’s robes shoulder. 

“No!” Meludir breathed. “No, your Majesty.” 

Thranduil chuckled again at the younger elf’s insistence. “Then please remove that robe, the colour does nothing for you...” for the first time, Meludir looked up, eyes wide. “Remove, my Lord?”   
“Yes, one assumes you do not sleep in heavy formal robes?” Thranduil was playing with him. “You do know how to follow instructions, do you not?” 

Meludir nodded, dazed at the prospect of undressing in front of Thranduil. Trying to steady his nervous hands, he one-handedly unlaced the neck and gently pulled the clasps apart, exposing his skin to the air. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure what to do. 

Thranduil set his glass of wine down, taking Meludir’s and placing it down on the same table. With his usual brand of confidence, he slid his hands inside the robe, briefly grazing Meludir’s nipples with the tip of his fingers before pushing the robes from his shoulders, letting them fall to the floor. 

“As I suspected...” Thranduil ran a finger over Meludir’s chest, his skin taught with the perfection of youth. The same finger came up and tilted Meludir’s chin up. “You may look at me here. In private.” The Silvan’s eyes meet his for a fraction of a second, before Thranduil manoeuvres him in a circle, so his back is to the giant bed. Meludir whines slightly, but Thranduil doesn’t give in to his tempting lips. His hands find the top of Meludir’s breeches and have them undone in a flash. Meludir gasps, almost shocked at this fast undressing, especially as Thranduil is still fully clothed. 

“Step our of your boots, Meludir.” The elf does as he is told, Thranduil still holding the top of his trousers, pushing him ever so slightly so he falls back on the bed. He gives a little exhale of surprise, his cock now standing hard against the cooler air of the room. Thranduil ignores it, languidly pulling Meludir’s breeches over his thighs and to freedom. The Silvan elf feels strangely exposed, yet aroused. No one has ever seen him like this and somehow he’s grateful it’s Thranduil. 

“Next time, wear something easier to remove.”   
Thranduil straightens up, Meludir’s eyes glued to him. Next time? 

“I suppose you have not taken the time to prepare yourself, either.” 

Meludir opens his mouth as if to question when Thranduil’s fingers are caressing his most intimate of places. He moans.

“I thought not... tell me, Meludir, have you even had your first cock?” The way Thranduil says such lewd words whilst touching him so intensely is almost enough to make him burst then and there. But he wants to see Thranduil. Taste him. “Only... only my fingers, my Lord.” 

“Curious, I can’t imagine you would have a lot of privacy to do such things.” Thranduil’s finger slowly flutters over his entrance again. 

“Some...sometimes when we’ve done very well, Tauriel will let us use her private bath chambers...oh...” Meludir can hardly believe this is real.

“And you sully them by behaving in such a filthy way...” Thranduil says it as if he’s making a casual remark, not touching Meludir in ways he’s only fantasised. “And what do you think about, when you’re taking those baths, hm?” 

Meludir’s cheeks began to turn pink, another moan escaping him. “Oh...” 

“I asked you a question, Meludir.” Thranduil’s other hand flickered over the Silvan’s thigh, his face looking down questioningly. 

“Only my King.” Meludir gasped, flushing pure red. 

“Hmm. Very good.” Thranduil removed his fingers and Meludir couldn’t help but whine - however, a cold wet sensation followed and the fingers returned, massaging the cool oil around his entrance, thumb tracing over his balls for a moment. His gasp at the cold transformed into a deeper moan. He lay, entirely exposed and at Thranduil’s mercy whilst the King slowly fingered him open, his expression almost distracted. 

Thranduil’s fingers were most unlike his own, for one they were bigger - he began with one but just as Meludir got used to it, he added a second, stroking inside his channel as the younger elf squirmed underneath him, trying to gain more friction. They reached deeper, more practiced, skilled at delivering pleasure. Meludir’s cock was straining between them, leaking precum. Just one touch would have set him off. He wanted this to last. 

“You may come.” Thranduil looked down at him, blonde hair scraping Meludir’s chest. 

“N-no... I want to... oh... I want to see... you.” Meludir’s legs were spread as wide as they would go, his channel right against those fingers. 

The corners of Thranduil’s mouth twitched a little, the hand on Meludir’s thigh now sliding his long robe open to reveal he was deliciously naked underneath. Meludir thrust back against Thranduil’s touch, biting down on his lip with a moan. For a split second, he removed his fingers with a wet popping sound and let his robes fall to the floor. Meludir, stretched and suddenly empty propped himself up on a shaking arm to take a look. 

Thranduil is as every bit magnificent as he’d dreamed - perhaps even more so in reality. He’s quietly confident, there’s little chance of him losing control like the shaking Meludir. Finally, his eyes move down the King’s body, the odd scar here and there but taut and muscular - and the most pleasing of all, this thick cock fully erect, just for Meludir, who keens at the sight of it. Thranduil runs a hand down his own length. “Do you like what you see, Meludir?” The Silvan elf can barely speak, both desperate to be filled and afraid he won’t be able to take it. He nods, fervently.   
Thranduil leans forward, his hand taking hold of Meludir’s throat, his kiss controlled but claiming. Meludir can all by try and match a Thranduil’s fervour, but his mouth is almost useless in comparison. Thranduil already owned him in his head, but now it was official. He’ll never be kissed like that again. 

Thranduil breaks the kiss as abruptly as it began, leaving Meludir wanting in the same way he’s wishing to be touched again. Hesitantly, he puts out a hand and touches Thranduil’s chest, the King watching him with a small smile. Encouraged, Meludir’s hand explores Thranduil’s chest, his arms, dipping down low, eyes flicking up for encouragement and receiving none, yet no command to stop. His fingers trace up from the base of Thranduil’s cock, delighted as he felt the King shiver. His facial expression did not change, but his eyes grew darker. Emboldened, Meludir licked his lips. 

Thranduil’s thumb moved up from under Meludir’s jaw and traced his lower lip, eyes heavily lidded. “Perhaps sometime soon I will teach you how to put your mouth to good use, but today...” he rolled his hips painfully slowly against Meludir’s stroking hand, the very tip of his cock teasing Meludir’s spread entrance. “Today... I will make you mine, should you wish it.” 

Meludir moaned loudly, trying to push back only for Thranduil to move away. “I... only wish for my King’s pleasure...”   
Thranduil’s hand achingly slowly drew circles on Meludir’s inner thigh, eyes moving from his face to his dripping erection and back again to his face. “And you do not wish to come yourself?”   
“Ah... Meludir gave a mewling gasp only... only if my King allows it.”   
Thranduil gave another one of his languid smiles, thumb circling Meludir’s entrance again.   
“By the looks of it, I would say I have no choice...”   
the Silvan elf moans again, almost crying. “Please...” all his wildest dreams had come true, he felt so on edge and he needed a release, but not before he felt the raw slide of Thranduil’s cock; just the very thought of his Majesty filling his wanton hole with cum was almost enough to finish him. Despite himself, Meludir looked up, biting down hard on his lip, spreading his legs as wide as they would go, baring himself for his King. 

Thranduil, sympathetic to Meludir’s pleas, leans forward again, swiping the hair away from the Silvan elf’s face, watching his panting mouth as he lines himself up with Meludir’s wet entrance. “Are you ready for me?”   
Meludir’s stomach flips over in anticipation and he manages to breathlessly whine “...Please...” Thranduil fills him - and what a stretch it is. The King is slow, his hand flat on Meludir’s belly, holding him in place, even though there is nowhere else he would rather be. Any discomfort is eased by slow waves of pleasure until Thranduil’s mouth comes back to claim his again, filling him entirely with his cock, tongue insistently probing as Melduir whines, his fingers digging into Thranduil’s arm. The King waits until Meludir gives a moan and a slow, experimental thrust against him and Thranduil returns it. Meludir feels as if his Majesty is holding back, taking him slowly, gently for the first time. All he can do is moan into his mouth, hands finding Thranduil’s toned buttocks, his own cock laying between their stomachs, willing him to thrust harder to give him some friction.   
Thranduil fucks deliciously hard and slow, building the tension pooling in Meludir’s stomach. He’s as measured as Meludir is out of control, loud, lewd moans bouncing off the chamber walls. The Silvan elf grips onto him for dear life, dying for release but never wanting it to end - but he knows he’ll never last. The sensations from Thranduil’s increasingly hard thrusts push him closer and closer to the edge, groaning his appreciation and trying to return the feeling. If he could take Thranduil any deeper, he would, but he’s bottomed out, the King’s mouth now against his ear, breathing harder. “Say my name...”   
Meludir manages “Thran—“ before he comes like he’s never come before, soaking both their stomachs in his release, becoming limp for a moment before tightening his grip on that luscious cock as the King rides him through every last drop. Meludir breathlessly gasps into the King’s ear “Thranduil, Thranduil, Thranduil...” until the King finally surrenders and Meludir is filled with a hot jet of come as Thranduil continues his thrusts until it’s pooling out beneath them. 

Minutes - or hours later, Meludir manages to open his eyes, naked and utterly spent in the King’s bed. Thranduil is elsewhere - perhaps the washroom, but Meludir can’t move. With a slow, satisfied sigh, he falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.


End file.
